Dragon Age: Sins of the Past
by C. Dawgz
Summary: About a decade after Origins, Aedan Cousland must prepare for fatherhood, come to grips with the sacrifices he made to get to that point, and fend of a sinister new threat that would seek to destroy everything he and his allies fought so hard to protect.
1. Chapter 1

Hello folks. This is a sort of prologue to a story I've been kicking around in my head for a while. I hope you like it enough to come back and check it out when there's more to it. Any reviews you want to leave are always appreciated as well. Anyway, here it is. Thanks for reading.

*Dragon Age belongs to Bioware and Electronic Arts*

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Aedan Cousland stood atop the ramparts, staring silently out at his arling. The sun was slowly peaking into view from the east, heralding the arrival of a new day. He liked to come out to the ramparts at this time. It was peaceful now, before the bustle and commotion of the day ruined what little serenity his duties allowed him. He had came out here and sent the pair of guards inside, allowing them to end their night watchmen duties a few minutes early. He would stand on the ramparts, lost in his thoughts, until the guards' relief reported for their shifts. He sighed heavily. The job was taking its toll on him, but he himself was the only person he could fully trust with its care.

Things had changed so much. The world seemed so very different than it had just a few short years ago. Back when things had been so much simpler, and yet so much more complicated. As sick as it made him feel to acknowledge it, the war had given him purpose. Given him value. There was a threat to the safety of his land and his people, and he had mustered armies to drive it back underground. The fight had defined him, given him a singular purpose. But the darkspawn hadn't been seen in years, Ferelden and Orlais were in the midst of a flourishing new alliance, and Aedan Cousland was useless. In a world without war, what became of the warriors?

In his case, they were given tiny arlings in the wind-blasted north of Ferelden where they spent their days meting out justice to arrogant minor nobles and farmers. They sat in a chair and listened to endless appeals, requests, and trivial, insignificant disputes and sent their former travelling companions out to do the real work. They did the jobs that he once would have relished himself. They dealt with bandits, highwaymen, and even the odd abomination, while he did nothing. Even so, he couldn't step down. He told himself that it was because there was no telling when a new threat might arise that only he could handle, told himself that Amaranthine needed him, but the simple truth was that he couldn't step down because he was frightened. Frightened of where his life would take him without even the Wardens.

He was connected. He had powerful friends in Denerim, in Highever, in Redcliff…he could live anywhere in Ferelden, and live very comfortably. But then he would be a relic even more surely than he was now. He glanced down at himself. His fine linen attire in particular. Aedan Cousland was going soft. He hadn't raised a sword for anything other than training in nearly three years. He often toyed with the idea of taking an expedition down to the Deep Roads in search of adventure, but the idea was innately selfish and something he could never seriously consider.

Things were so different. Cousland had long ago resigned himself to the fate of all Grey Wardens; to ultimately walk the Deep Roads alone as the taint within his blood drove him ever closer to madness. But even that absolute had been altered. The ancient blood mage, Avernus, had found great success in his research in the past year and a half, and had prepared a serum that would allow the Wardens to master their taint; to reap the benefits while denying the inevitability of madness and death. The old mage had succeeded in his life's work after all. Aedan almost pitied the old man, in a way. He could relate to being stripped of purpose. Avernus was presently in Weisshaupt presenting his findings to the grandmaster of the order. Nathaniel Howe had gone with him, along with his wife Velanna. They wouldn't be back for another six months.

Oghren still served as Aedan's right hand; he was one of the only holdouts from the old group. The dwarf was as uncouth and uncivilized as ever, but Cousland couldn't imagine life without the grimy little bastard. In many ways, the dwarf reminded him of himself. Oghren knew what it was to be a relic in a world that had moved on.

Zevran had returned to Antiva and apparently staged a coup, taking over the Crows. Cousland applauded the move; at least the assassin was doing what he was good at. Would that he had such purpose.

Alistair was king, of course, and, judging by his last letter, was, to Aedan's surprise, very happy in his marriage to Anora. Apparently the woman had a softer side to her that had revealed itself over time. From the sound of it, the two were very much in love. Their first child, a bright lad named Duncan, was nearing the age of four, and another was on the way. Loghain and Alistair were still not fond of one another, but the letter named the old Warden, who had visited from his post in Orlais, as an extremely doting grandfather.

Fergus watched over Highever as best he could, but he had never really been the same since that fateful night almost a decade ago. He had never remarried, and had no heirs. His health was poor as well. Becoming teyrn of Highever would certainly be an upward movement in station from arl of Amaranthine, but Aedan had no desire to claim the position from the bones of his long-suffering big brother. He prayed for Fergus every night.

Wynne had passed away eight years ago, the spirit who had saved her from death in the Circle Tower finally depleted. Four years ago, Aedan's faithful hound had died. It had been a devastating loss for the man. He hadn't heard from Sten in many years, since Alistair's coronation and the victory party after the archdemon's defeat.

Sigrun and Anders were dead, killed seven years ago in a battle with a minor noble who had rallied together a band of brigands and foolishly attempted to lay siege to the Vigil. His attack never had a chance of succeeding; there were very few casualties among Aedan's people, but the cost of two dear friends had been much too high.

Aedan Cousland had seen a lot of good friends die, and the world was a worse place for their loss. He stared out at the arling of Amaranthine, deep in thought. He thought about the way things had been. He thought about those times long past, when the world had been simple. When he and his friends and united under a common banner and thrown themselves into hell for the good of Thedas. They had all survived that, only to be slowly whittled down by the most dangerous foe of all: time.

His birthday had been yesterday; there had been little by way of festivities, and this was largely because Aedan's friends had mostly either moved on or died. It had gotten him thinking about how very different things were these days.

Aedan felt a presence behind him and turned. It was his wife.

"Darling?" Leliana said earnestly, her voice still sleepy. "Are you alright? I woke up and you were gone." She had come out in her nightgown, barefoot and without makeup. Her hair was a mess. Aedan had never seen anything as beautiful as this woman.

"Yes, my love. I'm alright. I was just thinking. About everything. I miss them, Leliana. I miss them all. Wynne. Anders. Sigrun. My mabari. Even Sten, grim, gruff Sten. Even _Loghain_. We've lost so much," he said, teardrops sliding down his cheeks.

Leliana came to him, wrapping her arms around him in a gigantic hug, holding him close. "Darling, I know how you must be feeling. I feel it too, some nights. But I take solace in the certainty that whatever trials we must face, we will face them together."

He held her. "I love you, Leliana," he said softly. "I've always loved you. And I always will. No matter what we lose."

"And I you. I didn't expect to find you in such a dark mood! But I've some important news that might cheer you up. You see, in about eight months, it seems we'll be _gaining _something very special," Leliana said with a short giggle.

Cousland froze, unsure if he'd heard her correctly. "Wait," he said, piecing it together in his mind. "Are you saying…?"

"Yes," Leliana said, kissing him hard on the mouth. "We're going to have a child. Our first child."

He returned the kiss, elated. However, a little voice in the back of his mind saw fit to rain on his parade. _It's not your first_, it seemed to say. For almost a decade ago, he had conceived another. He'd never been able to tell his beloved Leliana about the horrid infidelity he'd committed in order to get the chance to make a life with her. He'd never told her about what he'd done with Morrigan.

Aedan Cousland hugged his wife tenderly, though the expression he wore as he looked past her shoulder was a deeply ambivalent one.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's part 2. Read, enjoy, and review!

******************************************************Chapter One***********************************************************************************

Aedan and Leliana arrived in the dining hall about an hour after she had told him the good news. They'd stood on the ramparts for another moment, holding one another. Aedan had forced himself to shove thoughts about the apostate aside and allow himself to be happy about what was arguably the most important piece of news he'd ever received. It was one thing to receive news from the front, intelligence regarding enemy troop movements and other military affairs. It was quite another to learn that after ten years of assumed infertility on his part, the woman he loved was carrying his child. It was notoriously hard for a Grey Warden to conceive, and though the couple had been trying for the duration of the marriage, Aedan long ago resigned himself to failure in this matter. While they'd been happy for Alistair and Anora, Aedan had always harbored a bit of jealousy of Alistair and his young son.

Once he'd forced away thoughts of his liaison with Morrigan, Aedan had begun to feel deliriously happy. After everything he and Leliana had weathered together, finally having a child together was a wonderful proposition. The guards arrived for their shift and the couple returned to their bedroom and made love. The timing was unusual for them; Aedan was a traditional kind of man in most respects, and usually preferred to save such things for later in the day. But the swirl of emotions, of mutual love and elation, compelled them to the bedroom early.

"I'd given up hope long ago," Aedan remarked afterwards as he strapped on his armor, an ancient set he'd unearthed piece by piece in the Brecilian He always wore it when he worked; it gave the right sort of image to the people of Amaranthine. He wasn't some minor noble who had ascended to arldom. He was the Commander of the Grey, the son of Bryce Cousland, and he was damned well going to strike an impressive figure when he was seeing to the tedious business of sorting through the various complaints, requests, and petitions of his subjects.

Leliana was sitting up on the bed, sheet wrapped about her. She looked incredibly beautiful, her face lit by the early morning sun peeking through their window. She almost looked like she was glowing. She smiled softly. "I never did," she said, Orlesian accent coloring her words. "Everything happens for a reason. The Maker brought you to me, and now He has seen fit to give us this gift."

Aedan opened his weapon cabinet and looked thoughtfully at the impressive collection of weapons therein. "You've always been more faithful than I have. It was one of the things that drew me to you. Your unceasing hope that everything will turn out as it should. Sword and shield today, or two swords?"

She stood, holding the sheet about her and moving to kiss him. "How could I lack for faith, when the Maker has given me such a devilishly romantic husband? Talking about weapons while we're discussing our child. Really!" she said in mock indignity.

"I thought you liked weapons," Aedan replied with a devilish smirk.

Leliana shook her head at his immaturity. "And that is one of the things that drew _me_ to _you_. Your uncanny knack for double entendre. And your weapon, of course," she said with a laugh.

"Oh, I do love you," he chuckled. "Though you never answered my question," Aedan said testing the weight of Starfang in his hand. It was the finest sword he owned in terms of utility, but he rarely wore it unless he expected a fight. The metal had a strange sheen to it that disrupted the cohesion of the image he was trying to maintain. He placed it back in the cabinet and strapped Topsider's Honor into his belt scabbard. He'd recovered the blade in the Deep Roads during his quest to find the mad dwarven Paragon, Branka. This blade, perfectly straight and thin, rarely left his side, and he would be wearing it today regardless of whatever else he decided to bring along.

"Why don't you wear Duncan's sword as well?" said Leliana. It was a fine idea. He took the blade down from its place in the cabinet and strapped it on his left hip scabbard. Tomorrow he would be sure to wear the Cousland family sword.

"I'm thinking about giving it to Alistair's boy the next time we're in Denerim. Duncan was the closest thing to a father Alistair had. It's only right that the boy inherit his namesake's blade. It's only through poor timing that the blade didn't go to Alistair in the first place." Aedan had found the sword, along with its matching dagger, buried in the chest of an ogre in Ostagar, where he and his companions had returned to claim the late King Cailan's equipment, along with his father Maric's sword, after receiving a tip from a dying member of his honor guard. At the time, Cousland and Alistair had not been on speaking terms. Aedan had spared Loghain Mac Tir's life at the Landsmeet, and Alistair had not been pleased. Fortunately for Alistair and indeed for all of Ferelden, Aedan had been able to convince Anora and Alistair to wed, but for a while, his relationship with the new king had suffered.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Leliana replied, finally deciding to get dressed. She let the sheet fall and went to her closet, retrieving a simple yet beautiful dress and a pair of shoes Aedan had purchased for her when they'd gone to Val Roueaux. They hadn't been cheap, but Cousland was financially well off and knew how much his wife loved shoes. She strapped a pair of daggers to her thighs and put the dress on over them. Old habits died hard.

They left their chambers together and headed down to the dining hall to have breakfast. Oghren sat at the long table, already in his cups. He looked up at the couple as they entered the room and narrowed his eyes. "Heheh," he snorted lewdly. "And so early in the day! Didn't think you had it in you, Cousland."

Aedan shook his head in wonder. "You're a terror, old friend. A bloody terror." Leliana shrugged and sat down. An elven maid rushed out with two plates of food, followed by a colleague carrying glasses of water.

"Hmph," Oghren grunted. "I been livin' vicariously through your sex life for years." Leliana coughed, choking a bit on the sip of water she'd been taking.

Aedan sighed. "What's on the itinerary for today?" he asked Varel, his seneschal, who was sitting across from Oghren eating a plate of eggs.

"Not much, my lord. Ser Gramlen is involved in a trade dispute with a travelling merchant who apparently sold his wares on Gramlen's property. Our good Ser Gramlen demands tribute for goods sold on his land, and is willing to take it either in monetary form or in capital punishment. Both parties will be speaking before you before noon. And there's been report of a band of thieves to the southwest. They ransacked a caravan of merchants. Killed most of them. A few survivors made their way to the city." Varel was looking very old these days. He hadn't been a young man even when they'd met, but the years had made their mark on him.

Cousland scowled as he dug into his eggs. "The new Warden, Elendel, from the Dalish? Inform her of the highwaymen. Tell her to take a few men and go talk to the survivors, and then deal with the highwaymen. As for Gramlen? I've been in charge here long enough that he should know how this dispute will turn out for him."

Varel nodded his understanding. "Shall I cancel their audience my lord? Or do you wish to inform Gramlen personally?"

Aedan sighed at the mundanity of his day to day work. "No, keep the audience. I'd like to set good Ser Gramlen on the path to altruism personally. And remind him that his lands belong to him because I allow it. Though I haven't yet decided what would be a fitting tribute for him to make to the merchant for inconveniencing him so."

Varel chuckled. "That will go over well, I'm sure."

"You know me," Aedan said with a wry smile. "Always looking out for the little people. My nanny taught me well."

"Poor Nan," Leliana said, having heard Aedan's many stories about the woman and the tragedy of her death, along with everyone else at Castle Cousland.

Then Leliana accidentally knocked her plate of eggs off the table as she turned to vomit on the floor. Aedan rose quickly, rushing to her side and supporting her with his strong arms as she finished. He dabbed at her mouth with the fine cloth napkin and handed her glass of water to her. Her pregnancy truly hadn't crystallized in his mind until this moment. She was really going to have a baby. He grinned like a fool.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked quizzically. "There's nothing funny about that!"

"No," he agreed. "But it's really going to happen. It's wonderful." Though she still looked rather sick, her wide smile told him that she felt the same way.

The elven maids rushed to clean up the mess as Oghren's eyes narrowed again. "So that explains it," he said gruffly. "Right up front, Cousland, I'm letting you know right now that I'm volunteering my services as a midwife." The dwarf giggled lecherously and took a swig of ale.

Cousland groaned and helped his wife from her seat.


	3. Chapter 3

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"You peasant-loving imbecile!" Count Gramlen roared, clenching both fists at his side and quivering with rage. Aedan had just informed the noble that he would not only be receiving no tribute from the merchant, but would also be paying him ten sovereigns. As Aedan had explained it, for a merchant, time was money. Without money, the man's whole livelihood could fall through. How much money had his business hemorrhaged while Gramlen was pissing about trying to look important and exercise his very limited authority? Aedan couldn't image that it was as high as ten sovereigns, but he was trying to make a point.

Leliana had retired to rest, as she wasn't feeling well after breakfast. He expected she'd be back for lunch in an hour or so. Had she been here, she would have given the Count a piece of her mind. Aedan smiled inwardly at the thought. Aedan's seneschal handled the rebuttal. "Curb your tongue, my lord," Varel warned the noble. "You speak to your Arl and to the Commander of the Grey Wardens, heir to the Teyrn of Highever and the Hero of Ferelden. That last title was earned in the blood of a very large dragon that was no doubt a good deal more intimidating than yourself."

The Count tried to take deep breaths but ended up hyperventilating. He was a wealthy noble who had holdings near the southern tip of the arling. He was a middle aged man of about fifty, tall and lean and harsh-featured. His face was angular and gaunt. His hair was a dusky brown and he wore a tight goatee around his pursed lips. He wore red linen finery, the color of which nearly matched that of his face in his present enraged state.

"He might be well versed in combat and thuggery, but what he knows of ruling an arling could fit in a thimble," Gramlen scoffed. Varel went to speak again when Cousland waved him silent.

Aedan rose from his chair, eyes glancing upwards at Gramlen, who was taller than he. "Maybe you could talk to Rendon Howe like that. Maybe you didn't even have to. I'm sure you two were the best of friends. But-" he was interrupted by an outburst from Gramlen.

"Are you accusing me of treason?" Gramlen spat indignantly. "Personally, I approved of Arl Howe, but hearing it coming from you…we all know _your_ opinions of the Howes. It sounds like you're suggesting something, _my lord_."

Aedan scowled. "It looks like our friend," he said, gesturing to the merchant, a kind looking man who probably hadn't even known he was on Gramlen's land, "shall be receiving thirty sovereigns from the vaults of his generous host."

"THIRTY!" Gramlen roared. "How dare you! How dare you presume to run this arling in this manner! You and that _joke_ of a king!"

"You drive a hard bargain, Gramlen. Forty-five sovereigns. Keep pushing. Drive it up some more. It's amusing to see your reactions. However, Gramlen, there is something you should know. I'm having a good day thus far. I received some wonderful news that has put me in the highest of spirits. So I'm going to ignore the last thing you said," Aedan said in a dangerous tone.

"Fine," Gramlen huffed indignantly. "Fine. Pander to the rabble. Drive the arling into economic ruin. I wipe my hands of this." The Count reached for into a coin pouch dangling at his side and withdrew a handful of gold coins. Counting out forty-five, he handed them to the merchant. "May you spend them in good health, cur."

"Oghren," Aedan said jovially. "That wasn't a very nice thing to say, was it?"

"It sodding well wasn't," Oghren replied. He had been silent for most of the Gramlen's audience.

"He'd better thrown in a few more sovereigns then. Does five sound about right?"

"Aye, Cousland. Sounds right to me. Bleeding tragic the way this nug's mouth keeps digging the hole deeper. Oughta go to Orzammar and get work as a miner. He doesn't even need tools. Heh. Tools." Aedan sighed. The dwarf was one of his oldest friends, but his sense of humor never ceased to amaze.

The Count withdrew five more coins. "May I _go _now?" he asked, voice shaking with anger as he tried to control his tongue and prevent incurring more charges.

"After a heartfelt apology, why not?" Aedan said with a pleasant smile. "Shake hands and tell him you're sorry for inconveniencing him. And I think you'd better apologize to me as well. As I mentioned, you wounded me with your pithy barbs a moment ago."

"Do you really-" Gramlen began. Aedan cut him off.

"I do. From the heart. Out with it." Aedan grinned at the sputtering noble. It was turning out to be a wonderful day.

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_Far to the South…_

The Chasind hunting party moved quickly through the Korcari Wilds in pursuit of a pair of fleeing deer. Game had become scarce in the wilds; the Chasind had returned to their ancestral forest after the Blight to find that the darkspawn had razed much of it to the ground. The local fauna had been all but massacred. Tradition dictated that the Chasind would try to rebuild their lives in the wilds, but it was hard. Their hunting parties had to go further and further to find game, as the population of viable food was very low throughout the Wilds. Today was the furthest they had ever ventured in their pursuit. The deer had seen them and were on the run.

The five Chasind stormed through the wilderness, gripping their weapons and nimbly avoiding the natural obstacles the forest threw in their path. The only woman in the group, a young Chasind in her early twenties named Jelwyn, pulled ahead of the group, vaulting over a gnarled stump and firing an arrow at the deer. The arrow sailed true, burying itself in the creature's flank. It fell flat as it ran, sliding into a tree with a pitiful bleat. Its partner dashed away.

The Chasind slowed to a stop around the fallen deer. "Now we just have to find a way to carry it," the leader of the party, a young man named Karm muttered darkly. It was his first time leading an expedition, and his pessimistic outlook had begun to grate on the others.

Jelwyn slapped him on the back fondly. "It'll be alright, Karm. It always is."

"Hold it. What's that?" the senior member of the group peered into the misty wilds ahead of them.

"By the…it looks like a dwelling. All the way out here?" Karm said uneasily. It was. The woods broke up ahead, leading to a cleared little peninsula of land upon which sat a small shack. Beyond that was a marsh.

"It looks abandoned. Shall we?" Jelwyn said, strapping her bow to her back and starting towards the cabin.

"No, 'tis a bad omen!" another hunter gasped breathlessly. Karm feared he was right, but Jelwyn, with her lustrous brown hair and pretty features, had him smitten. He wouldn't do anything to appear cowardly in front of her.

"Jelwyn is right. You know the state of things in the village. If we don't stockpile enough food, we won't survive the winter. There could be supplies in there."

Reluctantly the band followed Jelwyn towards the cabin.

The senior hunter cocked his head as they approached. "Do you hear that?"

Karm fell silent for a moment, trying to determine what his elder was talking about. "No. Nothing at all."

"Exactly. No birds. Nothing." He was right. The forest was deathly silent. Jelwyn tried the door of the cabin.

"It's unlocked." The door creaked open and the hunters slowly edged inside. It was dark, illuminating only by the fading daylight peaking in through the threshold. They conducted a quick search of the cabin. There didn't seem to be much in the way of supplies. Karm couldn't put his finger on it, but something was very wrong here. He felt ill, and rushed outside, throwing up. He wiped his mouth and looked up.

"What…what is that?" he called to his companions. They followed him outside. None of them had seen it on the way in, but…it looked like a skeleton. A big one.

The senior hunter gaped. "It's…a dragon?"

Without warning, a column of light shot from the moldering remains of the dragon. As quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

"What just happened?" Karm asked, fear dripping from his voice.

"Flemeth found herself a body," Jelwyn said in reply. The four men looked at her, staring. Jelwyn smiled. Although it _wasn't _Jelwyn. Something seemed wrong about her.

"Jelwyn?" Karm asked quietly.

"Ah. So that was her name," Jelwyn said with a small chuckle. She raised a hand, pointing it at the senior hunter. He stared at her, confused. A jet of fire shot forth from her palm, engulfing him. He screamed in agony and tried to stumble towards the foot of the marshy pond, but instead tripped into the side of the cottage. It erupted in flames.

"Jelwyn!" Karm cried in horror. The woman he loved took aim at another hunter and lightning crackled from her fingertips. The bolt of electricity caught the man straight in the chest and sent him sailing into the marsh. He floated at the top, smoke rising from his charred flesh.

Karm and his remaining companion took off in a dead run. What was this thing, and what had it done with Jelwyn? The thing had called itself Flemeth. _The _Flemeth? The dreaded Witch of the Wilds? His companion fell to his knees, throwing up. Karm slowed to a stop and looked back at the man. His skin seemed to be bubbling.

"Help me," the man croaked, and exploded. Karm shrieked in horror as his friend's innards splashed across him. Not-Jelwyn walked towards him casually. He made to run when she raised her hand at him, the way she had raised her hand towards the man she had set on fire.

"Stop running, half-wit. Flemeth isn't going to kill you. Yet. Have a seat right there. We're going to have a chat, you and I. You're going to tell me what's been going on in the world. Flemeth has been gone a long time, and she has things to do. Daughters to find. So talk fast." Jelwyn smiled at him, but there was no warmth in it. Karm gazed at her in abject terror. Her eyes. Her eyes carried none of the warmth and love that the real Jelwyn's did. Her eyes registered pure evil.


End file.
